[Seward, Nebraska. January 14th, 2017]

I wake up to the sound of a distance crash somewhere downstairs. My body flings upwards into a sitting position, hands tightly grasping the covers.

"Who, wha...my cookie.." I mumble while obviously still half asleep, peeling my eyes open as I rapidly blink in hopes I can see more than just fuzzy spots.

I yawn, holding my right hand up to my mouth as my left scratches my side. My eyes glance over towards the glowing letters of the digital clock on my desk.

5:45 A.M.

I groan, falling back in my mass of pillows. Darkness surrounds me. Even outside is still dark.

Now what's Noah got himself into now? Waking me up in the dead of night. He knows I'll kill-

The events of yesterday evening suddenly come rushing back to me, hitting my brain like a sledgehammer.

I jerk back up into a sitting position, flinging my covers off as I step down off my bed. I rush to the door, jingling the doorknob that for some 'reason' won't open.

Come on damn door-

The lock clicks off, and that's when I remember I locked my door last night....Whoops.

So what. I was taking precautions just incase.

Sure Casey seems like a nice, almost shy guy. But one can never be too sure.

I swing the door open, coldness hitting my bare feet as I step onto the hardwood floors of the hallway.

Now what?

My feet hurdle down the stairs like a herd of elephants, my right hand gliding across the wood railing at the side.

I come to a immediate stop as I hit the bottom, my eyes latching onto Casey who's currently bent down picking something up off the floor. The lights already on.

So yesterday after we ate I pretty much just grabbed a pile of extra blankets we keep in the closet and a few pillows, placing them on the sofa for Casey.

I then explained to him how the tv works - because he apparently doesn't remember, telling him he's allowed to use it as long as he doesn't blast the sound up to its full capacity.

Then I simply went up to my room and - locked my door evidently, collapsed on my bed around seven something and was out like a light. Which means I must've been asleep until just now.

Yeah. I like my sleep.

Casey's in the midsts of righting a old bedside tabletop mom has positioned next to the sofa - for some odd decorating reason, the lamp and the few odds and ends scattered across the floor.

He looks up at me, a hint of embarrassment flushing across his face as he picks up the 19-hundreds vintage lamp that thankfully - because mom would kill me if anything happened to it, isn't broken.

"Sorry." Casey apologizes, placing the lamp back on the table. "I didn't see it there." He explains, keeping his head down.

My head tilts to the side as I notice his voice is slightly rushed. Almost like if he'd been out running for two hours and still hasn't quite caught his breath.

His hands quickly place the few objects back beside the lamp, and that's when I realize he's now using both his hands.

His left arm seems completely fine now.

"Your arm." I blurt out, stepping forward as I lean down to pick up a small Eiffel Tower statue.

His eyes glance up at me from under his hair, his head still angled down.

"It's better already?" I incredulously ask, walking up to the table as I set the statue down.

He stands up as he sets the last object back where it belongs, shrugging his shoulders. "I guess it wasn't as bad as it seemed." He rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at me.

Hmm.

He grabs the leather jacket off the back of the sofa, swiftly pulling it back on over his shoulders.

"I was actually about to leave. Sorry I woke you." He takes a hesitant step towards the door, looking uncertain.

A thought hits me.

"Did your memories return at all?" I hopefully ask, folding my arms behind my back as I lean forward.

He pauses a second, then slowly shakes his head in answer. Almost looking ashamed about it.

Dread replaces the hope in my chest, washing it out like a flash flood.

"Oh." I look down at the floor too, blowing a breath out through my mouth. I look back up as he takes another step towards the door.

"By hey, don't just rush off before breakfast." I shrug. "I'm not going back to bed, so we might as well have a bon voyage breakfast bash." I tell him, taking a step towards the kitchen.

More indecision flickers across his face, his jaw clamping shut as he looks between me and the door.

I look up slightly, a small smile on my lips. "I make a mean batch of waffles." I discreetly mumble, gently rocking back and forth on my heels.

He blows a breath out, glancing over at me. "Alright." He decides, his right arm going up to rub his left bicep.

Nervous habit?

Though I don't know why he's nervous. If anyone should be nervous, shouldn't it be me?

That would be logical. Complete stranger here.

My eyes widen. "Oh, but excuse me for a second while I go change. Don't run off now." I head towards the stairs. "I can't stand breakfast in my pajamas." I throw over my shoulder in explanation, working my way up the stairs.

Digging through my drawers once again, I pull out a simple white Cotten long sleeve v-neck shirt, and a pair of designer jeans.

Quickly throwing them on, I then lace up a pair of white sneakers on over white socks. Then I make a quick trip to the bathroom, completing my normal bathroom routine and ending with a small coating of makeup.

Never felt the need to go heavy or anything.

And what? I'm just finishing up while I'm up here.

I trot back down the stairs, feeling more presentable now that I'm dressed in suitable clothes.

Though my shirt did match this waffle party.

I find Casey sitting on the sofa, the pile of blankets and pillows I'd given him yesterday now neatly folded beside him.

Someone's got manners. Though I've kinda guessed that after the numerous times he's said thank you to me.

He has his head bent down low over his lap as he leans forward, both his hands on the back of his neck.

His head raises as I step down off the last step, hands falling back down to his lap. He stands up in one fluid movement, turning around to face me.

His eyes quickly go over my new attire. A natural reaction if you ask me.

I pull my hair up into a quick ponytail. "Follow me to the kitchen." I point towards the kitchen, practically marching towards it.

Ugh. I embarrass myself sometimes.

Casey takes a seat at the counter again, and I move over towards a cabinet that's at the far wall.

Pulling out the waffle mix, I then grab the necessary utensils and ingredients for the batter.

Ten minutes later - with absolute silence between us, I open the waffle press, a bucket load of steam wafting up into my face.

Blinking against the steam, I pry the four waffles off the press with a knife, unplugging it from the wall.

I carry the waffles to the counter on a plate, lavishly placing it down with a soft hand gesture.

"Breakfast is served." I smile at myself, plopping down on the stool across from Casey.

We each have a cup of orange juice, a plate, and a there's a small bowl with strawberries next to the syrup, peanut butter, and powdered sugar.

The perfect breakfast.

Casey looks it over with a almost perplexed look on his face, a slight slouch in his shoulders.

Poor guy.

What does it feel like to not remember anything about what you've done your whole life? The people you've met, the people you care about. Everything washed away like it was nothing.

Must be terrible. Which would totally explain why he seems so....depressed.

I smooth some peanut butter over a waffle, immediately spreading some syrup on over the top.

Grabbing one of the two forks I'd set on the table, I tear a piece off, popping it into my mouth.

Ah. Nothing beats fresh waffles in the morning: 6:15 to be exact.

Casey simply spreads a little syrup over the top, using his own fork to cut it into pieces.

I stuff my mouth with another bite. "So, what'd I tell you? Am I the queen of waffle perfection or aren't I?" I lean back, happily looking over at him.

Waffles make me happy okay.

He slowly nods, keeping his eyes down on his food. "I suppose so." He shrugs. "Though I wouldn't really know."

Oh Yeah. That little detail.

I suddenly feel like all my thunders been stolen, my face reverting into a frown.

Rolling my eyes, I lean forward as I place a elbow on either side of my plate. "Typical male. Always being a smart mouth." I mumble while stabbing the fork into my half eaten waffle.

Casey suddenly sits straight up - and if he was a cat or dog right now, his bristles would be standing on end.

That instantly puts me on alert.

What?

He stares straight ahead, his head angling to the side - back towards the living room, as his nostrils flare.

His hand tightens around the fork.

"Were you expecting company?" He abruptly questions, making me almost jump out of my skin.

I hold my left hand up to my heart, slowly shaking my head as I eye him. "No. Why-" I'm cut off as the doorbell rings through the kitchen, my heart stopping for some unknown reason.

Casey seems to tense with the noise, his eyes dilating.

The doorbell sounds once again. A sense of urgency surrounding it.

I raise an eyebrow. Now who could that be?

Shrugging, I stand up, wiping my mouth and fingers off before I head towards the door that leads to the living area.

I'm not one to ignore doors when I'm actually home. It could be important.

"Don't do it."

I stop at the sound of Casey's voice, turning around to face him as I cross my arms.

"And why not?" I stare at him, daring him to tell me his reasoning.

He lowers his eyes, his head moving in a slight shake. "Something doesn't feel....right about it." His eyebrows furrow, like he doesn't exactly understand it himself.

The doorbell breaks me from my staring, returning me to the present.

I leave Casey behind without another word, pushing open the door as I head for the living room.

What right does he have to tell me what feels right and what doesn't? It's my house.

Besides, it's probably just the mailman delivering early - real early.

I stop in front of the door, my hand literally pausing over the door handle as thoughts race through my mind.

What if he's right?

Letting a breath out, I unlock the door, grabbing the door handle as I prepare to open it.

Only one way to find out.

I open it about halfway, my eyes slightly widening as I take in the sight before me - one I've only seen in movies.

Oh crap.

"Can I help you?"

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A/N

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Maggy